His Valkyrie

She loved him.

Those three little words held the most powerful spell in all of Yggdrasil.

Yet did it matter when he had lost everything? Loki snorted at the thought. In truth had he had anything at all ever? He had believed himself a Prince of Asgard and a son of Odin. But those had never been his.

Sigyn’s love was his and all his, but the one his Sweet had loved was Asgard’s King, not some monster doomed by the Norns to be slain by Thor one day soon.

Had he been able to keep Asgard’s throne and show his worth, Odin might have finally regarded him as his true son. He did not care for the crown, only for the AllFather’s approval. And Sigyn would have been by his side, her little dainty hand squeezing his, pride and love brightening her eyes as the King declared them man and wife.

What a glorious day this would have been.

Nothing but a dream where he would have been a true Asgardian accepted by Freya as her son-in-law. The Proud Goddess of War would never give him her daughter now. He had to admit he understood her point: who would want a Frost giant as the father of your grandkids?

And yet, even though he was born a Jotun, his Sweet Sigyn had still tried to visit him when he was in jail, defying Odin’s orders and most likely her own mother’s will.

He could not have loved her more in her defiance, proving to him and to all of Yggdrasil her attachment to him.

Yes, he loved her, and because of this love, he could not let her ruin herself or her future. She had to have a good life, with happiness and joy and laughter and … no sign of him around. He would only bring her shame and darkness and pain and death. That he knew for sure.

So, whenever she came to his cell, he screamed at her, insulted her, and sent her away from him.

As far as he could.

In the end, she did not come anymore.

Nevertheless, he kept thinking of her. She was in his blood, in his heart, in his loins, gnawing at his brain night and day. Stories of Freya’s lovers becoming obsessed with her had always made him laugh, but now he understood.

Was it the Goddess of Beauty’s power taking revenge for his past mockery? If so, he would apologize and sacrifice a few goats on the Vanir gods’ altar. Had this been the prize to win Sigyn’s hand, he would have happily paid it.

Nevertheless he knew better. She was now out of his reach… though not out of his sight.

He had tried to stay away. The Norns knew he had done his best.

But the thought of holding her intimately in his arms, if only for one night, of Sigyn’s kisses, of her soft moans and cries as he caressed her soft skin and made her his were driving him insane. He needed her. He craved her.

Every hour he spent away from her was pure torture. He was lost in a desert, desperate for a single drop. All others were mere mirages. Only Sigyn was true. She was a spring in the middle of a draught, and he needed to drown in her waters to be completely satisfied.

Dying a second time, and with Thor holding him so close, crying into his hair, had been… something. He had not enjoyed breaking his brother’s heart, but it had been necessary. Loki needed to die. He was a well-known monster, a blood-thirsty, power-hungry traitor no one could ever trust.

Not that anyone had ever truly trusted him, except for his mother who was dead, and Sigyn whose hand Freya would never give him after the whole Midgard invasion debacle. There was also his revenge against Odin. If Loki was alive, then he would go back into the dungeons, a powerless prisoner, his hands and feet fettered and not in a fun way, confined under the AllFather’s watchful eye.

Alive, he would never be free. Dead, with Odin letting down his guard, he could finally do what he wanted.

Do what he wanted… But what did he actually want? Take his revenge on Odin for his lies and manipulation, sure. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more this did not seem so urgent. What he wanted, needed, craved was to see Sigyn again. To be close to her, to hold her, kiss her, whisper the most scandalous things in her pretty ear.

Well, fuck Odin. The old goat could wait. Sigyn could not.

Taking too many risks would have been suicide of course, and after two deaths already, he had enough trips to Helheim for a lifetime. Besides, it would have put his beloved in danger too. So he hid.

Sigyn had gone home to Nidavellir. Freya was most likely still pissed she had served a Jotun and all the rumours about them were most likely not helping.

For all the people wondering, no, he was not spying on her, nor was stalking her. He was just making sure she was all right. Did she sleep well? Was she eating enough? He did not dare to approach too much at first, but he missed her beautiful face and soulful eyes.

Yet, love was his mistress and he could not disobey her orders. And so, with each day, Loki could feel his feet moving one step forwards, as if some irresistible spell was pulling him towards his beloved, wisdom be damned. He was now ruled by his heart, gone were the days of Loki the clever Trickster. Now, here he was, Loki the Lovesick idiot, risking his own neck for a glimpse of his Valkyrie.

Sigyn was not among the fierce warriors anymore. She now was forging weapons with her brothers in their father’s workshop. She was a good smith, his Victorious friend, without a doubt one of the best in all of Yggdrasil. Pride was submerging his heart, while his desire for her burnt his entire being. Norns, he needed her in his arms more than ever. Though of course, he could not let those bloody dwarves see him.

Hiding in the shadows had its perks, but what was the point of being one of the most powerful Seidr user if he did not show off from time to time. Well, this was his time to shine.

He took the form of a magpie, looking at Sigyn from the window and delighting in the smell of the pies she baked. His beloved finally noticed the strange bird watching her closely and let him in, offering him a slice of her dessert with a weak smile.

“Hello, friend”, she said, “Are you hungry?”

Loki was always famished yet a pie made by Sigyn’s lovely hands was food for his body and soul. And delicious! One tiny bite of her succulent pastry sent him to Valhalla. He ate the whole thing to his beloved’s disbelief.

“Oh dear!”, she exclaimed, “Were you that hungry, my poor little one?”

He let her pet his feathers and shivered of pleasure at her touch.

“Oh no, are you cold?”, Sigyn cooed, misinterpreting his reaction. He was not cold. He was burning with desire. Still, as her mistake led him to more caresses and cajoling, he was not going to correct him, quite the opposite.

Here he was, a favored pet to his Treasure, unable to hold her or kiss her, but why would he complain when Sigyn fussed over him, spoiling him rotten, stroking softly his feathers while feeding him, letting him rest on her dainty finger while she sang him a sweet song.

Was this not much better than Valhalla or Asgard’s cursed throne? Maybe he could keep on this form forever and live as a bird by her side for the rest of his days? After all, he did not remember being so happy or so loved. Yes, his mother had loved him, and he was sure deep down his brother did not hate him, yet things had always been complicated and despite all his efforts, he had never been able to escape Thor’s shadow.

This was different. Sigyn cared for him and he especially enjoyed being pampered by his Sweet. Their little life had all the perks and none of the inconveniences of his existence at Odin’s court.

Here he was free to love and be loved by his Treasure, though not in a carnal way – that was drawback to the whole situation.

Every night he rested in the little nest Sigyn had made for him, yet, every morning he woke up with his beak buried into her long fiery locks, the rest of his body comfortably settled on her pillow.

In his mind reigned quite a unique association of pure bliss and unparalleled torment. Yes, he was sleeping in his beloved’s bed, but he could not properly hold her, taste her, kiss her. To be so close yet so far was pure agony.

He wanted to turn back and tell her who her feathery friend was, but Heimdall and Odin would see him, and the moment they did, he would have no moment of peace.

Maybe he should have got rid of them after all. Would anyone miss them? He surely would not.

Sigyn was always very busy during the day, smithing the hours away until she went home to her small grubehus. He had tried accompanying her to her work, but Iwaldi’s forge was much too hot for his little paws. Or was his Jotun blood finally catching up with him, allowing him to endure the eternal snows but not the fires of her workshop? It was a possibility, and that made him hate even more his Giant ancestry.

Once again, his monstruous origins were keeping him from his love and he was so tired of the whole ordeal.

At night, he sometimes could hear muffled sobbing coming form her pillow and it broke his heart. Each time, he would fly to her side and comfort as much as he could. He burned to make love to her until all of her tears were chased out by his kisses and she fell peacefully asleep in his arms.

He silently cursed Odin, remembering he would be taken away screaming and kicking before being thrown back into his cell the moment the Allfather realized he was still alive.

He could not risk it, could he?

“Why are you sad all the time?”, her sister Idunn asked Sigyn one day, “That man was pure evil and you would have lost your mother’s favor had you bedded him. A Jotun! Can you imagine?”

Yet Sigyn smiled sadly and shook her sweet head.

“Jotun or Aesir, it would not have mattered to me”, she confessed, “My love for him transcended Yggdrasil itself”

Then she sighed, hiding her tears from her sibling.

“But he did not love me back”, her voice broke up, “He died rather than trusting me. He jumped from the Bridge rather than asking for my help. As strong as my feelings for him were, what was the point of them if they were only met by his hatred?”

She thought he hated her? Was she blind? He absolutely adored her and only took so many risks because he cherished her more than his own life. He wanted to be worthy of her, to become this great King Freya would happily welcome as her son-in-law. He had dreamed of a life by her side, his sweet Valkyrie, a happy ending he knew he did not deserved but longed for.

He had to admit he had tried and played indifference at best, so his brother would not tease him about the whole affair, and his enemies would not use her as a weakness. But had he ever behaved so coldly towards her she would confuse his utter worship for loathing?

What a delirious misunderstanding!

He had to appease her fears and confess his true feelings for her. Would she be happy when he did or was it too late? Would she take him in her arms and kiss him, or would she slap him and make him beg on his knees?

He did not think Sigyn was the type of woman who liked to humiliate others – quite the opposite, in fact. However, if she needed him to crumble at her dainty feet, he would and happily so. He would kiss them, before caressing her legs, before offering his goddess all the pleasure she required to earn her forgiveness.

A little moan coming from the bed distracted him from his thoughts. She was crying again and calling out his name.

“Oh my Sweet”, Loki whispered softly.

The Hel with Odin and Thor and Heimdall and the rest. Let them arrest him, let them throw him into the darkest cave, let them punish him in the most cruel fashions, he did not care as long as Sigyn knew of his love.

Turning back into his usual form, he gently dropped a kiss on her forehead and Sigyn’s soft sigh robbed him of the little wisdom he had left in his brain. Desire inside of him rose quicker than the tide and in a second he was all over his beloved worshipping every part of her body.

Sigyn’s eyes were opened and she was smiling lovingly at him, letting him kiss her lips, caress her legs, leave bites on her alabaster neck. If anyone had dared interrupt him in that moment, he would have turned them into rats or cockroaches. Teach them a lesson for daring to take his Sweet from his embrace.

He had never experienced such intense pleasure with a lover, possibly because he had never truly loved them or been genuinely loved by them. Male or female, all his past conquests might have been lusting after him, but never had any of them cared for him, and he had to admit the feeling had been mutual.

That had been of course until Sigyn. His Sweet was perfection incarnated, so much so he sometimes wondered if she was a dream or an illusion he had created himself to escape his loneliness.

However, she was real and warm, moaning his name, her arms reaching for his shoulders as he drove them to the gates of Valhalla.

“Oh Loki, my love”, she mumbled, “Is this real? Are you alive?”

Loki smiled and kissed her gently, letting his finger caress her plump cheeks.

“Aye, my Sweet”, he replied, “I am as real as you are. And I love you, Sigyn, more than words can tell”

When someone started banging on the door and  rudely interrupted their ardent kisses, Loki swore under his breath and wished that person to the darkest hole in Helheim.

“Open the door, by order of the King!”, a voice he recognized oh so well stated clearly.

Damn Sif! What was she doing…

Then he realized.

He had turned back into his form, had he not? He had taken the risk. And now, they were here to snatch him from Sigyn’s loving embrace.

He had let Love become his mistress, and had answered her call forgetting all caution and foresight. And now, Bloody Sif was at Sigyn’s door ready to steal the little happiness he had and destroy any hope in his heart.

He was going to kill her and any friend she might have brought with her. They might want to take his Joy and Delight from him, and maybe they were right. Perhaps as a Jotun and therefore as a monster, he was unworthy of her, but nevertheless he would go down fighting.

As he readied himself for combat, Sigyn jumped out of bed and ran to the door cursing between her teeth.

“All right, all right, I’m coming!”, she screamed, “No need to destroy my door, it was a gift from by brothers!”

As she opened, Loki changed back into his magpie form. Maybe there was no need of starting a war, after all.

“Lady Sigyn”, Sif started with a sanctimonious tone that was sure to annoy the hel of out his Sweet, “We know you are harboring the criminal snake, Loki Laufeyson. We are here to…”

But Sif did not get to finish her sentence. All he heard from where he was perched was a whistling noise promptly followed by the Lady Warrior’s cry of outrage.

“How dare you slap the Noble Lady Sif, you whore!”, a very rude and soon-to-be-dead Crimson Hawk accused his Sweet.

“And how dare SHE call Prince Loki a criminal or a snake?”, Sigyn said as tears suddenly flooded her lovely face, “His Royal Highness died a hero, did he not? He saved you all and sacrificed his noble life so you could live out your wretched, unworthy existences. Why are you not celebrating his name and memory instead of hunting his ghost?”

Oh, what she going to pretend he was dead? Loki retained himself from laughing. What a show. He would have grabbed some pop corn if he had had any.

“Stop pretending!”, Sif howled, “We know that lying bastard is here and alive”

“His Royal highness”, Sigyn corrected between two sobs, “is dead and now we all ought to live in the darkness, deprived of his light”

What an actress! What drama! Brava! Bravissima! He would have to reward her loyalty and mischief once they were alone, and he smiled thinking of all the delightful gifts he would lay at her feet… and above.

“Heimdall saw you in bed with him!”, Sif went on, “You are his whore and all of Asgard knows it”

His Sweet suddenly blushed as it was proper for a Princess of her rank unused to such topics of conversation. All he wanted was to take her in his arms and tear Sif’s wicked tongue out of her stupid mouth.

“My Lady, you know very well I never had such relationship with his royal Highness”, she muttered shyly, “if only in my dreams…”

“In your dreams?”, Sif snickered, “Well, what Heimdall saw was not a dream but the disgusting reality. You play coy and proper, but it turns out you’re worse than your mother. At least, Queen Freya does not share her bed with frost giants”

“I admit my heart is his, but you know damn well he …”, Sigyn stopped herself before letting more sobs escape her perfectly kissable lips, “He never loved me back. You said it yourself! Amora said it too. Mother said it again and again! Not that it matters anymore, anyway, since HE IS DEAD. Let the Slain rest in peace and enjoy Valhalla, my Lady. We’ll join them soon enough”

“Is that a threat?”, Sif said, foolishly picking a quarrel with a Valkyrie, and worst of all, the actual Goddess of Victory. That woman was an idiot. He had always known it, but this whole affair showed how right he had been.

“No”, Sigyn stated, “But it could be if you keep on insulting my love and his memory, it might turn into a warning”

And if Sif kept on insulting HIS sweet love, she would lose her arms and her tongue. That was guaranteed.

“Excuse me, my ladies”, one of the Einherjar said, “But Prince Loki was a trickster. What if he enchanted Lady Sigyn’s dream, making her believe it was just a fantasy, when in truth, he was taking advantage of her in her sleep”

Sigyn’s axe appeared in her hand and she pointed it at the bold soldier. As if he had ever needed to enchant anyone to get what he desired. Please! He let those low tricks to the likes of Amora and her dear sister. He was much better than them.

“I will not tolerate such calumny!”, she roared, “You’re slandering my beloved’s name! Apologize now or die by my hand, you fiend!”

The oafish man held his arms well above his head in sign of surrender. Sigyn was out for blood, and that made him desire her even more. How he craved to grab her from behind and pin her on the bed… But this would have to wait a little longer.

“Maybe Ser Theoric has a point”, Fandral finally conceded, “But if he is, then Loki should be close. My lady Sigyn, would you allow us to check if Loki is not hiding in the shadows?”

Sigyn’s anger was at its peak, yet, she graciously let them in proving her good heart and clear conscience.

Loki was indeed in the shadows, though not the ones Fandral, Sif, Volstagg, Hogunn and Odin’s lackeys were currently inspecting. Perched on one of the ceiling’s beams, he was out of their watchful eyes. Sif most of all showed her zeal and gasped when she found Sigyn’s bed immaculate, with no sign of any improper activities.

She threw a dirty look at Sigyn, still not accepting her defeat. They looked in every corner, under each piece of furniture, but found nothing except some dust and a few missing socks.

The Trickster rolled his eyes at their clumsy inquiries. Had he been the one leading the investigation, he would have already dug out all the clues and leads he needed …. hunted down Gentle Sigyn’s lover and killed the man promptly for laying his dirty fingers on what belonged to Loki. It turned out he was not the sharing kind, he supposed.

Mumbling some insincere, awkward apologies, the Aesirs exited Sigyn’s home with their tails between their legs, and Loki sneered at their defeated faces.

“But Heimdall said…”, muttered bitterly Sif to her friends.

“Maybe he got it wrong?”, Volstagg proposed.

“Or maybe Loki has already fled the scene”, Hoggun suggested, “He never spent much time with his lovers once he got what he wanted”

Rude.

True, but still rude. And that had nothing to do with Sigyn. With Amora, he was always on edge, expecting any kind of betrayal. With Sif, it had mostly been the thrill of stealing Thor’s friend, if only for a moment.

With Sigyn, he always felt at ease. Peaceful. Protected. Loved. Happy. He wanted to stay with her as long as he could. Sure, he desired her, but it was much deeper than pure lust. He wanted to be by her side, talk with her, laugh with her, fall asleep with her in his arms and wake up with her soft body against his own.

He wanted to live by her side, have children…

But then, what kind of life would they have together? Loki was now a wanted man, and not in a fun way. Odin, Heimdall, Sif, Thor… they would always be after him, hunting him down. What kind of life had he to offer? One of pure chaos indeed, with no rest or luxury allowed.

Not the one his sweet princess deserved.

As for children… would she want to bear the spawns of a monster?

He knew he would not.

“Oh there you are, my pretty little bird”

Sigyn’s voice was a harmonious melody to his ear, and Loki flew to her, perching himself on her dainty finger.

“So you were my feathery friend all along”, she grinned, “I should have known! I could turn myself into a bird too, if you’d like. Though I usually prefer the puffin over the magpie”

The Trickster beamed at the idea and agreed with her choice of bird. Short and cute suited Sigyn the best.

“Or”, she suggested blushing, “We could turn ourselves into foxes. I know a field not too far from here where we could go errr…. frolicking?”

He so wanted to go frolicking with her in that field or elsewhere. Just a lot of frolicking, and licking, and biting, and kissing, and fucking. What a glorious plan. He could not wait.

However, if they were to be once again very rudely interrupted by Sif, the Warrior 3 and the Einherjars, he was going to throw a tantrum, and the mood would be definitely ruined.

What to do?

“I need to take over Asgard”, Loki finally declared to his Sweet, “Once Odin is dealt with, and Heimdall in jail, no one will ever dare bother us again”

“Will you kill the AllFather?”, Sigyn asked, “I suppose your birthfather would be proud”

Loki shivered at the thought. He had been trying so much to forget Laufey, yet he could not. Whether he liked it or not, the Jotun king was part of him.

“Not kill him”, Loki hesitated. Even though Queen Frigga had lied to him, she had still been a loving mother figure to him. She was dead, but still lived in his heart. And she would have been quite upset with him if he ever slayed her husband.

Damn it. Why did he care for a dead woman’s feelings?

“But remove him”, he clarified, “Send him away very far so he cannot ruin things for us”

“And then what?”, she inquired, “Take the throne? Become Asgard’s King? My love, you come from a royal line, as I do. You know this kind of glorious purpose is more of a burden than a delight”

“But Power would protect us against our enemies!”, Loki claimed, but doubt was starting to take over his mind.

This had seemed like a good idea, but was it truly?

“Besides, no one would know it was I on the throne”, he explained, “I would take Odin’s appearance and…”

Sigyn’s gasp interrupted him. Her displeasure was clear and Loki felt sheepish. If his Sweet was not on board, what would he do? Take over Asgard on his own? What would be the point? Maybe just his revenge? When he craved her touch and presence so damn much…

“Would you want people to believe me Odin’s mistress?”, she cried, breaking Loki’s heart, “Because that’s what they will believe, and I will not tolerate their accusations that I could love or desire anyone but you”

“My treasure”, Loki whispered, opening his arms to her so she could jump into them, kissing him with all the passion her small body could contain. It felt like she was trying for a punishing kiss, her soft tongue invading his mouth, battling for dominance, to make him feel her anger at his words and foolish plan. But all Loki could feel was her love for him.

They both finally turned into birds, deciding to leave Asgard and Yggdrasil. It was more hard work than it was worth, anyway.

They flew away beyond Yggdrasil, out of Odin’s reach, where they would at last be able to live their love in peace and know a true happy ending.